Revenge Of The Halloween Kids
by Chrissy Renee Pinto
Summary: Rhonda had escaped and condemned the cruel kids to torment, however, someone decides it is her turn to suffer. Please review if you like it!


_Liked the movie, wanted to write something for it!_

The moonlight filters through the window, lighting a patch on the carpet, extraordinarily silvery that she senses specialness in the stark disc. Unexpectedly a shiver crawls down her spine. No not crawls, scrapes like something has suddenly come alive this Halloween night. Heat evaporates from her body as the night air stills, waiting for an unforeseen force. The unearthly feeling increasing to a waterfall down her body as beads of salty sweat erupt on her skin. Vaguely, she discerns from a distance a ragged, wet, breathless panting as if someone is trapped in a vacuum of air and the only amount left is in her dry lungs. Then, it hits her-it is her own. But why? Confusion penetrating the growing aura of fear and panic. Eyes-wide and frightened-darted across the room.

Backstreet boy's poster on the wall-Teddy bears watching with beady eyes-The dresser where the remnants of their slumber party were cast in disarray upon the wood, . The haze was getting thicker, foggier like the shadows were coming for her. She tried to suck in a deep breath of cool damp air but then her nose was tickled with something musky-a foul odour that she could taste on her tongue. Tears prickle her eyes, not cool but hot as her throat clamps shut, a scream on the precipice-wild and unnatural.

It slams into her with the will of a raging tiger, the unforeseen force that lurked on the corner of her field of vision was now upon her. A furious body of pain consisting of knives that tore into her and invisible teeth that ravaged her. Body thrashed violently, jerked with the energy that was fuelled by desperation and agony that sizzled on her skin to the point where she thought fire was burning her skin away. Something sharp brushed the corners of her eyes and she shut them in fear of knowing the next perverted desire. The vision flashed like the television set, filled with static and buzzing noise. Then, for a slow second a picture flickered and before she can place the scene it is gone, disappearing into more white fuzz. Or in her case, white-hit blinding pain.

Their faces hovered over her, grotesque faces with twisted, unreadable expressions printed on them. Emitting childish giggles that had the undertone of madness and depravity. Their fingers were stubby but the zeal to which they put them to use had her yelling with no truer understanding of the meaning of torture. It was brutality, oozing from bottomless pits where their eyes could have been. But they didn't see through them, No it was for their victims to see their fate in the callous, tormented landscape mired with horrible death and the futility of life. Nothing- it was their state- vacant horror and hate-it was their experience and they meted it out fanatically. Her eyes swung open but the image did not leave her neither did the hoarse, pitiful wails that assaulted her ears. The mist- silvery mist- a barrier to her reality-alone she was alone-all alone with the anguish on her mind and body. Struggle-the detached part of her brain that could belong to him or her self-survival instinct commands her. She obeys-because she cannot imagine what else the decadent children have in store for her-because it is too excruciating to lie down and take it though strength has sapped from her limbs. So she attempts to arise-and that is the worst mistake she could have ever committed-the prelude to the worst horror of the night. Arctic fear trickles into her veins and pumps in her heart, slowly solidifying like molten lead until it weights heavily on her chest. The sound would forever haunt her-an auditory ghost-breathing-unnatural- rabbit-quick and rasping -wet with tears and definitely blood.

Two years later, the town has held a vigil for every night leading up to the day of Halloween. Prayer by candlelight with faces bearing remote and shuttered expressions while moroseness hangs on their features. Nobody could render an appealing explanation or hold any living being culpable. Thus the whispers sifts from behind closed doors that it was the work of the supernatural, that the town was cursed by-its buried secrets. No muted mouth would be willing to be the first to admit that there were forces out of the control, a madman or a spectre of sorts that had escaped to another place where more damage could be done which could explain the lull.

Time clicked slowly on the big wooden clock that hung for all to see on the town square. Every time a head would be raised to acknowledge the dent in time, a chilled quiver would descend their spines in different quantities-depending on what they believed in or they considered was real or the significance of the pernicious that was imbibed into Halloween.

Rhonda hurried home, pumpkins balanced precariously on her wagon and they bounced with every bump on the road. Passersby with imagination would imagine them jumping for joy at their future in the girl's creative hands or destructive. Her face was mysteriously idle in its emotion and drawn with a sallow brush that left one thinking with ambiguous thoughts. Quiet and reserved-like everyone on her block. She passed the shrine dedicated to the children found in a desiccated mess at the bottom of the quarry. Pictures of Macy, Chip, Schrader and Sara were erected among a clutter of flowers, bears and written papers of sympathy.

Did her noise wrinkle just a little as she passed the atmosphere tainted with sickly scents? Did her eyes blink from their lifelessness to show something akin to life? Her mouth curving with the barest hint of a sneer or smile-something inappropriate. If anyone saw her-they would be unsettled and watchful for the strange girl Rhonda Rhymes-the girl with the talent for knives on pumpkins was the harbinger of secrets and lies. And the first was the disguise of an innocent teen, a loner and a social misfit -no fault of hers.

Rhonda walks to the edge of the cliff, taking the place of Macy, where she stood two years ago and narrated her tale of woe. Distinctly the brunette remembered that like the parents of the doomed children, Macy tolerated no sympathy or compassion, the aim was to sown the seeds of fear so the diabolical plot could be fulfilled. Rhonda allowed herself to feel a pang of sorrow-for the deserted children with souls that the town couldn't bring themselves to care about, willing them to graves clad with chains and false hopes. They would each receive an elegantly carved pumpkin for this Halloween and as for their victims, privileged brats born without a sense of decency-they would be left to rot. The netherworld hidden by the ignorance of mankind shines in her eyes and a smile surfaces, surreal yet welcoming to her sleeping friends-the creatures of the night.

"Hello!" Rhonda turns in her own spin to address the source. The girl's face is colourless framed with curls that held a dull light-the blond lost in the sheen of white. "My name is Juliet and I am new in town."

Rhonda's heads moves in agreement and her dark eyes never leave the girl's features. Parenthesis as it was that the face lacked the normal paint of youth; lip-gloss, mascara and all the pretension that the youth were entitled to. "What are you doing out here?" The question had a little more force than was necessary but Rhonda could not be concerned for hurt feelings-or anything that did not fit into her scheme of things. Do not expect from the world and expect nothing back. Since that night, the words had been etched into her heart like a brand on a horse that spoke the name of the stable. "I was going for a walk when I wandered out here" Replying with a dimpled smile that couldn't be mistaken for anything but ambivalent, another misfit that didn't belong. "Where I am exactly?" Displaying a sheepish grin, embarrassed. "You're in a place of pain!" The deadpan note carrying on the chilly breeze letting one roll down the girls back as frigid as death. Eyes widened in shock, "What!" Her jaw dropped and she gave Rhonda a look sprinkled with disbelief. Rhonda nodded and began to narrate the story in a voice that was saturated in wry, icy dryness. After she was done, silence struck the girl mute. When she finally spoke her voice was a bit raw, "So those three kids remains were found here!" Taking a sharp indrawn gasp. Rhonda nodded gravely, her demeanour contributing to the movement in the atmosphere, something wicked and troubling like a graveyard with unmarked graves with the silent voices of the damned screaming in warning and antagonism. Rhonda saw it in her expression and it gave her a current of unbidden delight.

Juliet opened her mouth starting to say something then shut it again. Finally gathering the courage, she said with a visible shudder, "Would you like to come to my housewarming party?" Rhonda blinked, surprised but her face retained its impassive mask. "You want me!" The words pronounced slowly from lips that were set to be reticent along with her mind. It was hard in the quarry, whose very air stunk of an overpowering stench of ominous turmoil, smothering with the intensity of a wet blanket that drips sour water down your nostrils-water boarding.

"Yes!" Forcing a smile on her face, frozen with amicability, afraid to lose it before making a friend. "Sure!" The perpetual impassivity never flinching except the corners of her lips gave the barest twitch. Juliet tried to look pleased, failed and appeared somewhere close to a stiffened grimace.

That night

Rhonda trod the path that Juliet marked with her careful words and excited demeanour. The moon was fuller and glowing like a strange lantern that foreboded ill and menace. The translucent clouds roll onwards relinquishing their right to pander to the sky, even the stars felt their presence intruding.

"Not much further!" Floating on the frosty breeze with no positive connotations but the nippy cold offered some reassuring touch.

Rhonda conceded blindly to the fate the girl was presenting after what had happened last time, inhibitions had seized to control her unique spirit. The little doll with the knapsack had awoken a deeper comprehension within herself and there was no doubt that she was protected, she was in harmony with the night.

The clearing was blazing with light, the flames charily soothed by the girls that cradled them on their hands. The sparks were reflected in their emotionless eyes that were devoid of their own heat and had some detached fascination about them. "These are my friends!" The array of light send warmth on to her face but it was less pleasant and more a sort of dull angry radiate. "So, ready to party!" She was ostensibly being friendly and affable but there was a thread of untruth that was almost alien.

Rhonda felt herself shrinking into reticence, she attempted to draw a sound from her throat but nothing was emitted. Then finally it burst forth from deep within her gut, "What is going on?" Subdued by the general disquiet she shouldered. "We are ready to play a game!" As if her semi-sunny mood could dispel the turbulent emotions that gutted Rhonda. A sense of preservation told her to scatter but the dark curiosity invited her to experience, the kind that was the result of the notorious Halloween.

"What game are we playing?" The question was directed at the crowd of silent onlookers whose quiet conduct was cooling the temperature in the atmosphere making it obscurely unnerving. A girl broke away from the group, her face mottled in shadow cast by the burn of absinthe fire. "Whack the Piñata!" Then her face was fitted with a smile of aloof appraisal while something sinister twirls in her eyes hidden under a guise. "The piñata is ready, someone has to start!" Her voice was like the dried rasp of autumn leaves that crackled when you stepped on them. "Why don't you go first? Rhonda" Rhonda's face tickled under the stress of her gaze. Juliet sounded so carefree but still, Rhonda could not go first, Something physical was stopping her. In her bones, screeching noiselessly in the subconscious of her mind while her conscious was teeming with unwarranted activity.

"I don't think so! It is your birthday-"Despite the blanket of darkness, Rhonda could discern the disappointment registering on her face. "Rhonda please you're the guest-I really would like you to go first." Said meaningfully, Juliet's eyes silver coins of persuasiveness. "Yes Rhonda!" Someone called from the gathering, with a pushing ring so like a cold air whistling through parched lips. Then the others jumped in with shouts of support, demanding of her. Rhonda gave in though the queasy shiver stretched through her numb body through layers of clothing. A blindfold tightened itself around her upper portion of her face, Beads of fear dotted her upper lip. She was spun around once, twice-her legs spinning on an axis but her mind remained occupied by the nerve-jangling awareness. The bat was placed in her hand then she was pushed forward and positioned. Something breathed into her ear, pouring pure sting of death into the hollow of her ear. Rhonda snapped. Lashing out with the plastic though it would do her no good. Her heart was beating in erratically, pounding in her ears to the tune of disorientated panic.

Ten nine eight seven six five four three two one

Her arms fell to her side as if they were made of stone. Muscles spasm in protest of any further movement. Her mouth is set in a mutinous line though she knows it is past the point o f return. She wants to stall-needs to stall but her hand rips off the cloth anyway.

Breathing is rabbit-quick and heavy with apprehension into the static air as if there was something poised for an emergence. Throat felt paved with straw and her tongue was swelled with fear. The clearing was empty. No . Not absolutely deserted. Surrounding her were the crushed corpses of pumpkins. Jack-o-lanterns. She had destroyed the Jack-o-lanterns-the ensign of Halloween . She backs away, her heart caught in a vise, squeezing the air from her fractured lungs. Terror came, strong and overwhelming, rushing through her in a huge wave burying Rhonda with half formed realizations.

Rhonda turned on her heel, the intention to escape hammering and drilling like a thousand insistent needles. She yearned to be in the safety of her home in the company her birthed toothy jack-o- lanterns, saluting her from their perch on the front yard.

"Rhonda-Leaving so soon!" The voice, its bone-chilling consistency stronger than the razor-edge of the knife she had accidentally pricked herself this morning when carving pumpkins. It absurdly struck her that maybe it wasn't an accident.

The pulsation grew to a roaring crescendo and skipped a beat. Rhonda turned around slowly, feigning some resemblance of blank control. Juliet was standing at the front of the gathering. Juliet or her phantom, watching her with smouldering eyes of absinthe fire as if the flames of hell were situated where cobalt eyes were supposed to be. Burning brightly with utter despise that provoked Rhonda to back away. She could never do more because she found herself arrested to the spot, her legs planted to the shrivelled grass. Confidence evaporated as if dipped in acid. For all her impervious and worship of Samhain and the creatures of it creation. It permeated into her hollows of her bones that she was not immune. "I didn't do anything!" A whisper that cracked and almost a pathetic plea. "Really!" And from the bowels there emerged a haunting, crass laugh. It sapped the strength of Rhonda's resolution to survive.

"You deserve to die-you deserve to suffer!" The dubious tone that was sharpened with an acrid, ragged edge that loudly echoed in the clearing shaking the leaves on the branches. A quake undulated under Rhonda's skin, the heat leaching from the crevices of her body. "After what you did to my brother! Schrader. You deserve no mercy." Spat out poisonously like the venom of a cobra. The crushed pumpkins flared to life, raising their crushed bodies from their graves into the air, a sickening vibration of impromptu dancing that displayed more dangerous intimidation than celebration.

"Schrader was your brother!" Rhonda breathed dolefully, shock entwined. "Yes!" Snarled caustically, "I felt everything those zombies did to him-they didn't just tear him apart-they violated him, chewed into him and force fed him his own sanity! Then started it again. It was too long before he was mercifully put to sleep." Anger and hate thundered in her voice, acrimoniously scathing with a simmering undercurrent of violence. Desperation threatened to boil over, dulling the voice in Rhonda's head that warned her to keep calm and use her wits to figure out a getaway. However, the future was looking impossibly bleak and narrow. "We always had this twin telepathy. It made us special!" Her tenor undertook a glib, explanatory tone. For a brief second, eyes blazed with revulsion at Rhonda, "Until the day you killed him. I felt and heard every gory detail and what I could see-was you responsible! You let them die!"

"NO!" It burst from the tunnel of her throat, diluted with fear. "I DIDN'T !I had to get away to get help!" Loud, brash, cutting laughter rang into the sky.

"Don't think you can fool us, Rhonda!" "We know the truth!" A voice declared different from Juliet's but just as deathly void of any traces of personality. "You did this to us!"

"I was so frightened! Rhonda!" Juliet began again, "So disorientated that I had to protect myself." Her tone hardened to cold, solid iceberg, "I took a baseball bat to all my friends at the slumber party. Bashed their heads into the hello kitty rug. It was red, nobody could tell the difference between the brains and the colour. It decorated my walls too!" The colour drained from Rhonda's face, her eyes captured by their collective stares of obdurate animosity. They took a collective forward. The darkness cleared to release a silvery light. It bathed them in a pallid shimmer. Rhonda chokes painfully and shuts her eyes, tasting bile, sour and burning at the back of her throat.

They were shadowy profiles against a black turbid backdrop. They couldn't be speaking because their mouths were grey flapping skin, burnt around the edges. Tracing a pattern on their faces that bore the majority of warped destruction that was reciprocated in their eyes, halos of hell-fire. "You did this to us! Rhonda" They screech in unison, the noise similar to nails on a chalkboard. "You let them die. You forced me to experience the agony of my brothers death. Now you will experience it in the very same ecstasy!" Rhonda forces her body to move, made an extreme effort to save her doomed life but they are upon her in the blink of an eye. "We are not zombies that we can physically torture you but mentally-You will posses our pain." The voice that could belong to Juliet resonated in Rhonda's head. The forceful possession engendering unbearable sensations shooting through his body like an electrical shockwave, smothering like a wet blanket. Intoning, almost singing, "You are ours to break, Rhonda! You are ours to break!"

It takes a few pain-fogged moments before she realized she isn't in the forest any longer, she is in her bedroom. The pain ebbs and flows before disappearing. 'Maybe it was an ulser!' Thinks wildly. Then, giving in to the mad urge to look into the mirror, her trembling feet swallow the distance. The first thing she notices is the girls ashen facile, visible terror painting its own colour on her clammy skin. Relief temporary flooded her features then for some reason they tightened to cruelly intent. Rhonda gasped in horror at the calcification of her character. "NoNO NO" The implorations called by her mind grating on her nerves. From the corner of her eyes she spied the knife she had used to carve the pumpkins

She shook her head vehemently, struggling to fight it. The darkness in her eyes deepened in hue until they were a bright golden. On its own accord, one eye winked, a sliver of warped mischievous derision. Her body surged with fear, the pain in lower belly swelled to sheeting agony. Rhonda crumpled to her knees, Tears strangling in her throat, constricting her chest, her body ablaze as if there was something working within her to claw their way out. Somewhere from the deep recesses of her mind engulfed in throes of anguish, a voice advised in cool tightness, "This is far from the end, Rhonda! Better get used to it!"


End file.
